memories
by UnimatrixMuffin
Summary: Tony and Clint are trapped in the desert after a plane crash and Tony painfully remembers a part of his past he thought he had left behind... Tony and Clint whump, friendship
1. The crash

**A/N: Hello, and welcome to my first fanfiction! :) I don't have any experience, so don't be so hard on me please^^ Also, please know that english isn't my native language, so there miiiight be a few/lot of spelling/grammar errors (I triple checked xP) and feel free to correct me if you see one! This is gonna have lots of Tony and Clint whump, so be ready for that ;D**

**Warning: mentions of torture and flashbacks**

**Chapter 1: The crash**

The meeting in Hong Kong had taken far too long from Clint's opinion… he didn't even know why _he_ had to go, it was one of _Tony's_ business meetings (Pepper forced him to go this time), but when he asked Fury why he had to go the only answer he got was '_Somebody needs to fly him_', which is ridiculous, 'cause Stark could just have taken one of his private jets… Clint rolled his eyes at the memory.

His thoughts were disturbed by the sound of the door opening.

„Hey Feathers ?" Tony grinned as he appeared in the doorframe of the quinjets cockpit.

Clint sighed "What _is_ it, Tony, I'm kinda busy flying this jet!"

"I'm boooooored!" Tony pouted to which Clint rolled his eyes "And it's on Autopilot by the way…"

The Archer wanted to shoot back a sarcastic comment, but just as he opened his mouth, the Quinjet shook violently, almost sending Tony who was still standing next to Clint to the floor. He managed to steady himself by holding onto the back of the pilot's chair.

"What the _hell_ was that?" The billionaire yelled over the sound of alarms going of and the noise the Quinjets engines were making, his voice annoyed with just a hint of fear and confuson in it.

"We, apparently, took a hit!" Barton replied, voice calm and controlled, switching into mission mode.

He pressed a few buttons at the ceiling of the cockpit and then looked at a screen that showed a detailed blueprint of the Quinjet, the areas that were affected by the hit blinking in bright red.

Almost the whole left side of the jet was blinking hysterically.

"No shit, _Sherlock_!" Tony replied sarcastically and this time when another hit shook the Quinjet, he did fall to the floor after hitting his head on the wall when he crashed into it.

"Oh shit… _oh… shiiiiiit_!" Clint cried "Tony, get your fucking ass here and _sit._ _down._"

Tony groaned, he was dizzy from hitting his head, but he groggily held onto the co-pilot chair and used it to pull himself up and then sat down on it.

"Brace for impact!"

"Wait, _what_?" the billionaire was on alert immediately.

"We're _crashing_ you smartass" Barton yelled "You better get ready for impact or you might not see that fancy tower of yours ever again…"

Tony grimaced and clumsily fastened his seatbelt.

" 'bout 30 seconds till we crash, uh… somewhere in the desert…!" Barton yelled "sending distress signal to SHIELD"

He pressed the button for an instant Comm link to SHIELD HQ and at the same time tried to manouver the Quinjet to a relatively safe landing.

"Agent Barton to SHIELD… We've been attacked, have to perform emergency landing, requesting extracting party to pick us up, eventual requirance of a medical team…!" The pilot shouted when the light for an existing transmission blinked in bright red, glancing at his probably concussed friend from the corner of his eye at the last statement.

The mentioned was clinging to his chair, eyes closed tightly and teeth pressed together and waiting for he jet to crash.

Clint focused on the controls once again and continued to shout over the comm. "Trace this call, we-"

He was cut off by the first contact the jet made with the ground.

They skidded across the sand, and Clint's head rather forcefully connected with with the ceiling as the jet bounced off a dune...

He heard something explode, before everything went black…

**A/N: EEVIILLL CLIFFIE! ... That's chapter one :) Prease review if you liked it!^^ I'd like to know what you think of it :D**

**Next chapter is probably gonna be out in a week or two, something like that, depends on how school's going… :3**

**Chapters will get longer eventually^^**


	2. One of these days

**A/N: OH MY GOD, I'M SO SO SORRY!**

**I haven't updated in 2 months… gosh… this isn't abandoned! Real life is just very stressful for me right now… I hope you understand ^^;**

**I'll try to update more frequently, but I can't guarantee anything…**

**Okay, now that that's done, I need to thank you all, guys, you're amazing! Thank you so much for more than 500 reads! I really didn't expect that! Love you all!**

**I don't own The Avengers or Iron Man (but that's probably a good thing because you don't want to **

**know what I'd do with them)**

**Chapter 2: One of these days**

Director Fury was bored.

There was usually always something going on on the helicarrier, but today was just one of those days where absolutely nothing happened.

He was sitting in his chair, not even bothering to tell Agent Harrison to stop playing Computer games instead of working, for once he could actually understand the guy…

"Uh… Director Fury? We are receiving a distress signal" One of the younger agents stated shyly.

Finally. Something interesting.

"Put it through!"

The agent nodded and pressed a few keys on her keyboard.

"…to SHIELD …we-"

"Trace the signal!" Fury commanded almost immediately.

"… -ttacked..-"

"Can you stabilize it?" Fury asked with furrowed brow.

"I'm trying, sir!" the agent from before yelled back, she was obviously panicking at the directors expectations.

"… -ergency landing….-o pick us up, eventu-… -dical team…!"

The message ended and for a moment everything was silent, before Fury turned to an other agent "Could you trace it?"

"Yes, sir, we were able to track the transmission to the north of the Afghan desert… My apologies, director, but the transmission was too short and there was too much interference to isolate the area further."

"Well…then this'll have to do, Agent." Fury answered. "Could you determine who sent it?"

"Sir?" Agent Hill interrupted him and he turned around sharply, looking her directly in the eye… "Aren't Stark and Agent Barton supposed to be on a route over Afghanistan?"

He closed his eye and sighed. Oh crap. So it did happen after all.

**/-/-/**

Everything was fuzzy when he slowly regained consciousness.

He didn't know where he was or what had happened, all he knew was that his head was starting to hurt awfully.

Then it all came back; the attack, the crash… oh shit, what about Tony? Was he alright?

A quick glance to his right told him that his friend was still unconscious, but seemed to be alright… well, depends on how you defined "alright", so Clint chose to use the term "alive", as he didn't know how badly hurt the genius on the Co-pilots seat was.

When he was done checking on Tony, he took the time to look around the Cockpit, becoming more aware with every second.

The glass on the windows was shattered into pieces and there were shards laying all around the floor and controls. Well, at least now he knew where the cuts on his arms were coming from…

He continued observing the cockpit, his thoughts were still a bit fuzzy. He tried some switches and buttons, but it became apparent that none of the controls were working.

Wait…-was it just him or was it getting warmer in here? He blinked several times and then the smell of fire reached his nose. He quickly jumped to his feet, but almost fell down again with a scream of pain. But it came out as more of a pained gasp.

Oh perfect, a broken leg too, then. He looked around for something he could use as a crutch, while at the same time unfastening Tony's seatbelt and checking the mans pulse… just to be sure…

Then he saw his bow and quiver laying on the floor behind him, the bow string was ripped in half, probably by one of the glass shards from the windows.

He hopped over to his bow and took some arrows too, you never know… plus some of them had explosives or similar things, and hopped back over to his still unconscious friend with his loot.

He leaned on the bow, pain still erupting from his lower left leg.

"C'mon, buddy!" the archer slurred while trying to lift Stark from his seat "We gotta go…"

"Shit, Tony, why are you so heavy…?"

When he had one of the billionaires arms around his shoulders, he tried dragging him out of the jet, but nothing happened when he pushed the button for the ramp.

Man, this was getting better and better…

"Shit!"

He could already hear the flames fry their way through the Quinjets hull.

"O-okay, I got this, we just.. uh… we'll go outa the front window, that's gonna work." _Hopefully_, he added in his mind.

He pulled Tony with him back to the Cockpit and observed the window with a pained grimace.

"Aw Shit…" he whispered, then tried to move some of the glass shards from the controls, so he could push the billionaire through the window first.

He set his friend on the pilots chair and continued to move glass out of the way.

At exactly that moment said billionaire stirred and then groaned.

Clint noticed and yelled at him "Tony, wake up!" …which actually wasn't such a good idea, as the billionaire was startled by his yell and nearly fell from the chair.

**/-/-/**

Everything was dark.

He was groggy and dizzy, disoriented to say the least. He became aware of the pain in his head short after and he couldn't help but groan. He just hoped he wasn't in any hospital… god how he hated those things… and he sure felt bad enough to be in one.

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud yell that startled him so much he almost fell out of the chair that he was, apparently, sitting on.

"Tony, wake up!

He suddenly became aware of all the pain in his body and a pained scream escaped his lips.

"What the hell…" he mumbled groggily.

"Tony!" his friend tried again "We gotta get out of here, c'mon, through the window!"

He wanted to do what the archer told him to, even if he didn't know why, but the pain was just too much.

"Can't"

"Can't? What does that mean, you can't?"

"Hurts."

"I know, but we need to get out of the jet, Tony, or we're dead! Now come!"

The billionaire got up slowly, well, he tried, until Clint shoved him through the window and he landed on the sand with a grunt of pain.

"Watch out!" He could barely process the warning before Clint's broken bow and arrows came flying out of the window, their owner not far behind.

Crap, he felt like passing out again, black spots already began dancing around his field of vision.

"Tony?!" He heard his friend yell and snapped back into consciousness.

"What?" He slurred back in the direction where he thought Clint was standing. His sight was blurred and he closed his eyes, it was getting him dizzy.

"We gotta go!"

Go? …Why? _Where?_ He really didn't feel like going somewhere… he was perfectly fine with just staying at his current position. The jet… hadn't he smelled fire?… ohh… shit…

His eyes snapped open and he stood for a second before getting dizzy and falling right back down again.

When the world had eventually stopped spinning he got up again, more slowly this time and grabbing Clint's arm for support.

"So far, so good…" The Archer mumbled.

**/-/-/**

They didn't get very far with Clint's broken leg and Tony constantly dizzy.

About a minute after they started walking… well limping away from the Quinjet, the fire reached the gas and the whole thing blew up.

They heard the bang a second before the shockwave hit them.

Tony felt himself flying through the air, everything seemed like it was happening in slow motion…

He managed to hold onto Clint's arm before they hit the sand…

**A/N: Phweew, finally finished xP**

**I'm very evil with the cliffies xD**

**Well.. not so sure about this chapter, especially not about the whole "Fury"-part… Tell me if you like it :D**

**At least this is longer than the last chapter! :D**

**See you in the next chapter! :D**


	3. Does it matter?

**A/N: I can't say how sorry I am. I had so much homework and learning for school, some days I literally didn't do anything else.**

**And THEN I got into Doctor Who. I think some of you miiiight know how addicting that stuff is…**

**However, worst of the stress is over for now, just a few more tests and stuff and then SUMMER!**

**Please forgive me for the long wait, I'll try to update some more in the next month! ^^;**

**Also, THANK YOU so much for all the follows, reads and favourites! *faints* And for the reviews especially! :)**

**Chapter 3: Does it matter?**

She entered the bridge, a neutral expression on her face, with dark grey cat suit and black leather boots, wavy red hair at shoulder length.

She approached the directors chair with her arms crossed over her chest.

"You wanted to talk to me, director?"

"Yes, Agent Romanoff." He answered while turning his chair to fully face her. "There has been an incident."

Her eyes widened for just a second, before she slid her neutral mask back in place.

"What exactly are you referring to, Sir?" She stated neutrally, raising an eyebrow.

He hesitated.

"Agent Barton's Mission, Agent."

She raised the other eyebrow.

When Fury didn't give a further specification, Natasha's eyes turned cold, she took a threatening step forward.

"How bad?" She spit the words out, barely maintaining a calm voice.

"We don't know. I will send the last known coordinates to one of the Quinjets. Pick up a few Agents, I will leave this to you."

She continued her intimidating stare into his eye, he was not avoiding her eyes, staring back blankly.

After what felt like hours, but actually was just a few seconds, she turned around without an other word and almost ran to the door.

**/-/-/-/**

Sand.

Sand everywhere. His hair, his eyes, hell, even in his nose!

He blinked a few times before the world came into focus again.

His whole body felt numb, his head was heavy and his eyes were ringing.

He was startled when somebody touched his arm and whipped his head around just to see Clint Barton sitting besides him with a sheepish grin plastered on his face and a gash that went from his forehead to his left cheek and barely missed his eye.

He saw Clint's mouth move, but the ringing in his ears was drowning out every other noise.

He made a confused face and pointed to his ears.

Clint grimaced and first pointed a finger at his chest and then held up two fingers: _me too_.

After returning the grimace, Tony turned his head to look at the now smoking wreck of the quinjet.

The remains were still on fire and the sand around it looked burned.

He stared at it in shock for a few seconds, until Clint touched his arm again and pointed to some dunes a bit to the left.

Tony's eyes widened as he realized where they had crashed. A desert. God, he hated those with a passion. Just seeing a picture or a film of the endless sea of sand gave him goose bumps and sweaty palms.

So yeah, he wasn't exactly pleased, but fought down the anxiety for now and followed his friend.

They arrived at the dune the archer had previously pointed at and hid behind it so they couldn't see the wreck of their Quinjet anymore.

Tony closed his eyes and breathed deeply for a minute, his heart was hammering in his chest, not only from the sprint from the Quinjet.

He could feel his hearing return very slowly. Well, he noticed when the person that was sitting next to him gave a surprised gasp.

He quickly turned to look at the archer, worried what he had noticed and saw him stare at something a few meters ahead of them that he quickly identified as a piece of debris from the Quinjet.

But not any piece, it was the survival kit, or what remained of it. The two of them quickly shared a small smile, before dashing towards the thing.

Half way, Tony noticed something was… weird… he was still feeling strangely numb…

He stumbled in the sand as he just couldn't get his legs to cooperate anymore… he suddenly felt very exhausted.

Suddenly, there was pain everywhere. Arms, legs, chest, _head_. He gasped in agony as his breath was taken from him.

He didn't notice Clint stopping to cannibalize the supplies box and sprinting towards him.

He didn't notice his legs completely giving out and he didn't notice falling into the hot sand.

But none of that mattered anyways. Nothing mattered anymore…

**/-/-/-/**

Clint rummaged through the supplies box.

He'd been doing so for about half a minute and had already found a bottle of water and a mini first aid kit.

He was about to search through the front pocket of the box when he heard a gasp from a few meters away that sounded very much like Tony…

Clint stopped what he was doing immediately and his head snapped up to see what was wrong.

What he saw made him gasp, too. Tony was barely standing, his eyes wide open, pupils dilated and his face pale as a sheet of paper.

He ran (as good as you can run with a broken leg) towards his friend, but couldn't catch him before he collapsed and, apparently, passed out.

"Tony!?"

No answer.

"Shit…" he muttered under his breath as he arrived at his friend's side.

Tony was lying on his stomach, face down, his arms underneath his torso.

The back of his head was exposed, which is why Clint could see the blood clotted lump of hair, right in the middle of his friend's head.

He rushed to Tony's side immediately. „Tony!?" he called again, panicking.

Once again, silence was the only answer he got.

He carefully lifted the billionaire over his shoulder and half carried half dragged him to where the Quinjet's first aid kit was lying.

He carefully put his friend down on his stomach, so the wound was exposed.

Clint then took a tiny bit of water and poured it over the bloody hair, then he cleaned the blood away with a piece of his T-shirt that he had ripped off.

The wound was still bleeding, so the Archer saw the need to bandage Tony's head, which he did with a roll of bandages and the ripped piece of his shirt to apply pressure to the wound.

When he was finished with his work he turned his eyes to the sky to scan for any signs of their location.

The sky was already turning dark and he knew how cold nights in deserts could be.

Clint rolled his still unconscious friend to his side and tilted his head back, so his airways weren't blocked and then quickly searched through the first aid kit again, but after a few minutes of searching he still hadn't found what he was searching for; a thermal blanket or something similar could really have saved their lives right now.

Oh well, had to do it the old fashioned way, then.

He pulled his torn jacket closer to his body, before sighing and sitting down in the still hot sand next to his friend.

He watched the sky turn darker until hiss eyes closed and he fell into a dreamless sleep. The day had been exhausting.

**A/N: Sooooo… I didn't know what to do with them at the end of this chapter, but I think it turned out alright… Hope you don't hate me!^^;**

**See ya ;***


	4. waking up

**A/N: First off, I am so so sorry for the long wait! D:**

**I know this is like the most cliché excuse ever, but my laptop broke. It just broke, and now that I have a new Computer, we found out that all my data from the laptop was lost, because the hard drive apparently was the thing that broke.**

**I had chapter 4 half written in a word document on my old Computer, and I thought I'd get the data back, so I didn't write anything, because I wanted to continue where I left of.**

**I now have the test version of Word, that I'm writing this on, but it'll eventually run out…**

**Thanks so much to anyone who favourited, followed and reviewed! :) Also for over 3000 views! :OO**

**This amateur fic (more like beginner pfft) doesn't deserve that xP**

**Again, I'm so sorry for not updating, and I can't guarantee that I'll update regularly in the future, but I will definitely finish this, so don't worry about an incomplete story^^**

**Chapter 4: waking up**

He slowly rose from unconsciousness.

_Shit!_

What had he_ done_ last night?! This had to be the worst hangover_ ever_!

He moved his arm to pull his comforter over his pounding head, but his hand only gripped air.

_Huh?_ Where did it go? He tried to remember if he had even fallen asleep in his bed or somewhere in his workshop ... but he couldn't remember going to sleep at all…

He skipped through his memories; the last thing he remembered clearly was... his Workshop? And then Pepper forcing him to go somewhere... _a business trip?_ Did he get drunk there?

All these things flashed through his mind within a second. Only then did he open his eyes.

It was dark. And cold. He was lying on his side, but rolled onto his back to stare at the sky above. He blinked multiple times until the moon and stars came into focus. He didn't recognise any of the star formations. So he wasn't anywhere near home then...

He tried to sit up, but quickly stopped the attempt when a sharp bolt of pain shot through his back into his head and he fell back down into the sand.

Sand?

He rolled back onto his side with a gasp of pain, then he clumsily unbuttoned his torn suit jacket and shirt. The Arc-Reactor was now illuminating the area around him in a cold white blue-ish glow.

Sand. Yes, definitely sand. A lot of it, it was like he was in a... desert...

A desert? He was in a desert! A-a _desert_!? No, that couldn't be right…

No. No! Nonononononono NO _NOO!_

He couldn't be back there, he just couldn't! Rhodey had found him!

Or _had_ he?! Did he just dream that?

No! He couldn't have imagined all the things that happened- Iron Man, the Avengers...

He was back in the cave, the desert - gone.

Dark. The cave was dark. And cold. So very, _very_ cold...

Not as cold as he thought it was. Darker though. Hadn't there been lights?

Tony's body curled into the smallest shape possible, the less noticeable he was, the better. Maybe they wouldn't see him.

He remembered being outside... _escaping..._ ugh, had all of that been a dream?!

He didn't want to wake up yet. Didn't want to go back to the harsh reality of the cave. The pain, the dark, the _cold_.

He thought that maybe, if he just went back to sleep he might be able to spend a few more moments outside of his nightmare. Ha. _Ironic_. Going to sleep to avoid a nightmare when usually he would avoid going to sleep to do the same.

The exhausted billionaire fell back into a sleep full of nightmares of caves and drowning...

_**/-/-/**_

Natasha Romanoff - the Black Widow was in mission mode. On the outside her face was neutral, but inside she was feeling a rainbow of emotions; Anger. At Fury, she supposed. For being the one to tell her about Clint's mission gone wrong; for not telling her every detail. Fear, Worry. For her long-time partner and best friend; one of the few people she trusted. Fear of losing him. Worry of him being hurt, maybe permanently disabled. She also worried about Tony. Even though she would never admit it to anyone, the billionaire had really grown on her during the 5 months the Avengers had been living in Stark Tower, newly renamed Avengers Tower.

Maybe she even felt a bit of relief. At least they had some rough coordinates…

She sighed a barely audible sigh and concentrated on ignoring the new agents sniggering and talking in the back of the Quinjet. She stared straight ahead out of the front window, her fingers gripping the steering wheel so hard her knuckles turned white.

The Quinjet was currently over the Atlantic Ocean. The computer said they still had a journey of about 8 hours ahead of them. Fury had been very vague about everything. And that made her _angry_. She _hated_ not knowing about things…

She shook her head to clear it and continued staring out of the front window glassy eyed.

_**/-/-/**_

Clint woke up in pain. _Actually,_ he thought, the pain had probably been what had woken him up.

His leg was on fire. Not literally, but it sure felt like it. With all the adrenaline gone now, he felt all of the pain flow through his body in waves.

His whole body was sore, but his leg was by far the worst.

It was his right leg, he now realised. The lower leg.

Thank god it wasn't his thigh; that would have been a lot more unpleasant. And Clint should know, at least he had experienced said break.

The injuries on his arms weren't as bad on a second look. They looked more like scratches than gashes, and they were already starting to heal.

There were many of them though, they stretched in a very unpleasant way whenever he moved his arms.

He propped himself up on his elbows with a groan.

Clint sat up properly and rubbed his eyes. The sun was already so bright… It was hurting his eyes.

He turned his head left and right, looking at his surroundings through almost squinted eyes.

Sand, sand, sand. Oh, and some more sand. The dunes stretched as far as his eyes could see.

He saw his favourite billionaire laying in the sand right next to him, and remembered what happened the day before.

He hissed in pain as he slowly moved over to his friend.

"Hey, Tony..." he whispered while softly shaking the billionaires shoulder.

What he didn't expect was for Tony to violently flinch away from his touch and make such a heart wrenching sound of distress that Clint immediately withdrew his hand, startled.

Stark was trembling, now.

After recovering from the initial shock of his friends reaction, the Archer didn't try to touch him again, instead he carefully watched the billionaires face. His sweat soaked hair was plastered to his forehead. Eyes pressed shut desperately, his expression was one of pure horror, mouth wide open in a silent scream.

His hands were clenched into fists and wrapped tightly around their owners' chest.

Clint considered trying to get Tony's attention again, but was forced to reconsider when said Person started hyperventilating and curled his body into a ball.

It looked like he was trying to protect… his chest? The middle of his chest. …the Arc Reactor! Stark had never told anyone of the Team how he got the Reactor (except maybe Bruce, but they were almost _living_ together in Tony's lab, so that was no wonder…); all they knew was that it was powering his suits and that letting the light go out was a very very bad thing.

Point: Clint had no idea how that little circle of light had gotten implanted into his team mate's chest.

_It might have been something traumatic_, Clint thought,_ Actually, it probably was_, he added to his last thought; he could imagine few scenarios of how it could have happened in a nice, not at all traumatic way…

By now, more sweat was dripping down Stark's face into the sand and his hands were desperately clinging onto the fabric of his shirt.

Clint decided that he'd seen enough. He would wake him.

He slowly approached the lying figure, all while making soothing sounds and whispering _"It's okay."_ Over and over again.

His efforts didn't seem to calm his friend at all, he continued trembling, his laboured breathing came in small gasps and he just seemed far too tense for an unconscious person.

Clint continued his Journey, slowly he crawled over to his goal, all while carefully avoiding to put any weight on his right leg, which was obviously still broken.

When he arrived at his team-mate's side eventually, he wasn't sure what to do next..

Should he yell to startle Tony awake? Should he try to wake him gently again? Or was it better to shake him until he woke…?

He decided for the latter and lightly gripped his friends shoulder and ignoring the wince that came as a result.

When gentle shaking his friends shoulder didn't wake said person, Clint shook him with more force, hoping said action would have more success in fulfilling its purpose.

It did.

Just not like Clint expected, at all. Actually, what had he thought would happen? Did he think Tony'd just wake up and it'd be over? He'd be fine?

Anyway, none of these happened. Tony awoke with a yell, eyes snapped open.

He stared unseeingly with wide open eyes.

His breathing came in irregular gasps, he inhaled sharply.

Clint gripped Tony's arm after a few seconds of gasping and inhaling. Tony flinched away from his touch and tried to fight him with clumsy movements.

By now there were tears running down his face, he still fought desperately against his friend's grip.

The mentioned archer was still holding onto Stark's arm. His expression a mixture of worry, fear and shock; he did not expect such a reaction from the invincible Iron Man.

He knew that Stark had been captured and held captive in Afghanistan a few years ago. He didn't know a lot about it; Tony had probably wiped the files himself; the only things he knew was that he got the Arc Reactor there (but not _how_), and that he had built the first Iron Man suit to escape the cavern where he was held; that they wanted him to build something for the terrorist group called _the Ten Rings._

Might they-? No. They couldn't have _tortured_ him, could they? Tony was a civilian! He would have broken within hours at the maximum!

While he thought about the reason for his friend's behaviour, Tony stopped fighting him -he probably didn't have strength any more- and just sort of _lay_ there in the sand; _whimpering..._

Clint carefully stroked the back of his friend's hand with his thumb, while making soothing "_shhhhhhh_" noises and repeating the words "_It's okay_" over and over again, like a mantra.

They sat/lay there like that for some time. Clint didn't know wether it had been minutes or hours (it felt like an eternity) before Tony's eyes started open again and focused on his face.

"Feathers..." he whispered.

"Hey, Iron Ass" Clint smiled back.

"Where the hell...are we?" Tony asked turning his head to his left with a wince "Yeah, _please_ don't tell me I have amnesia..."

"Okay."

"Okay _what_?"

"Okay, I won't tell you."

"You're such an idiot." Tony mumbled, his grin telling a different story.

"So I've been told." Clint grinned back. He was relieved that Tony was conscious enough to make jokes, he hoped it would stay that way. "Tony... what is the last thing you remember?"

Tony laughed a little, but the laugh quickly turned into a cough. "That's the most cliché thing you can ask a person with amnesia, Legolas."

He looked lost in his thoughts for a moment, so Clint was startled when he talked out of nowhere "Hmmm, we were crashing. I'm pretty sure we were crashing. In the Quinjet. And.. uh, something about supplies and a.." he stopped for a moment. His eyes widened. "a desert..." he gave a nervous little laugh.

"Yeah."

"Yeah? That's all I get? A 'Yeah'?"

"Yeah..."

Clint watched Tony nervously try to push his hair out of his face with an ever so slightly trembling hand.

"Yeah, we crashed the Quinjet, somebody shot at us, I sent an SOS-message to SHIELD, we went down over the Afghan desert, Quinjet went BOOM!, Sand everywhere, found first aid kit, you lost consciousness."

"S-so what's the medical status, Sergeant Barton?"

"I'm not a doctor."

"Well, you're the closest thing to a doctor within a radius of, I'd say, like 500 miles, so please, talk medical to me."

"Well, I think you've got a concussion..."

"Yeah, I think I knew that already from the horrifying headache I have right now."

"Also, amnesia" Clint continued while ignoring the billionaires comment.

"You have a head wound and probably some more stuff, but I didn't exactly X-Ray you."

"What about you?" Tony tried not to sound worried, but there was some worry detectable in his voice.

"Me? Oh, broken leg, nothing too bad, I'm just sore..."

"Hmmmm.."

Tony's eyes were closed again.

Barton sighed and raised his eyes to the bright blue, cloudless sky. He squinted his eyes at the bright sunlight.

They'd have to cover their skin so they didn't get sunburned. T-he water he had found in the supply box was hardly enough for one of them to survive for one or two days...

He sighed again. He just hoped they'd be found in time.

**A/N: Sorry for the kind of cliffie! I discovered it is my favourite way to end a chapter, I am sorry.**

**If some parts seem weird, sorry, I wrote this in many, many parts, whenever I had time and inspiration, so they might not all fit together 100%...**

**Also: longest chapter yet! Heeeey... *confetti***

**I read chapter one again when I started writing this; I think I improved already :O**

**SO what do you think of this chapter? Love it? Hate it? Tell me in a review! :) Tips and suggestions are also always welcome! ;D**

**See ya! :***


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